


Remains

by EmmJay_Dee



Category: Simon Armitage - Remains
Genre: I MIGHT delete it ;-;, I figured... why not post it... and yeah, This is my English homework, am I even allowed to post it here...?, this is random, um...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 02:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmJay_Dee/pseuds/EmmJay_Dee
Summary: This is probably the most random thing you will ever find on this website. Our English teacher set us homework to re-write the poem as a story. And because I actually enjoyed writing it... and because I don't hate it that much... Here it is. You're welcome.





	Remains

Another day,

Another occasion…

I constantly hear the same mantra. It haunts me as myself, somebody else, and somebody else make our way down the street. I look around: people seem to have vanished, like a dry dust, blown away by that warm breeze which never makes a sound, almost as if it is a silent killer, only waiting for a right moment to strike. _What are you waiting for?_

Suddenly, a bank appears before our eyes. Its doors swing open with a loud thud and someone bolts outside, legging up the road without missing a beat in their step. Our reaction is instant: a click of a bullet being reloaded, quick inhale of breath and we aim. But…

My eyes scan the descending figure; I search for a gun. Then I hear that voice again. It screams at me to shoot, to kill. My mind is too traumatized to listen and all I hear is “…probably armed!” I spare a glance at my companions. They nod.

I see every round as it rips through his body.

The broad daylight on the other side blinds me through the dozen little holes, before he falls. What remains is a mess of what once was a human being, now kind of inside out. One of us walks towards the looter, tosses his guts back where they belong and throws the body onto the lorry… where it now belongs. It drives away, never to be seen again.

I sigh, looking back at my mates to see them cheering, completely lost in selfish ebullience. They celebrate the small victory, but I grieve. I do what should be done, I pay respect. Respect, to the one who lost his life. What if he had a loving wife? Precious kids, who are going to be raised without a father?

And then it hits me. I killed. And I hear that voice again, this time loud and clear,

“…possibly not.”

-

They tell me to forget. “You’re a soldier” – they say, “This should be a norm for you!” And I try with all my will to forget, to let the guilt go and live my life, but I can’t. The memories stalk me anywhere I go. They’re everywhere: on the street, hiding in the dried pool of blood, in the eyes of my mates whenever I look, they dance across my eyelids when I close my eyes, they fall with my tears and burn bloody streak marks into my cheeks like acid.

I’m hoping to find refuge in a warm embrace of my family home, but even there, the melancholy pulls the strings to my heart and brings me to my knees. “I’m sorry!” I scream, but nobody can hear, they don’t care – words don’t matter.

-

I need a way to forget, to finally find peace… so I empty another glass of whisky and allow myself to enjoy the slow burn in my throat before reaching for another cigar. Everything starts returning to normal as more glasses gather in my lap and I’m happy to let the world of dreams take me for once.

And then I see him again, legging up the road, probably armed, possibly not. I pull the trigger. Bullets seize through his body just as the lorry pulls up. I chase them, I can’t let them take him away. Not again.

It feels like infinity when I begin to trip. But the lorry never stops, doesn’t slow down either. I finally fall and as my body is about to meet the ground, I see it again – the bloody body being thrown like a trash into another hole behind enemy lines. And then I know: I will never reach him, never fix it.

-

I jolt awake with a scream. Shallow breaths accompany my thrumming heart and I look down at my palms, hoping to find all the answers I need in them. But instead, all I see is him. Him, and his bloody life in my bloody hands. And I know, the killer doesn’t wait, he strikes in an instant, but makes your death bitter-sweetly slow…


End file.
